


rose red

by arcanawildcard, clairelutra



Series: Shuann Week 2020 [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon, Case Fic, Developing Relationship, F/M, Mutual Pining, solo joker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard/pseuds/arcanawildcard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: Socialite Suzume Tachibana's Palace has been giving Joker a hell of a time—and her fixation on his pretty classmate Takamaki-san isn't helping.Written for Shuann Week 2020. Prompt: Cherry Blossom/RoseON HIATUS
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Takamaki Ann, Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann, Persona 5 Protagonist/Takamaki Ann
Series: Shuann Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692796
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49
Collections: Shuann Week 2020





	rose red

**Author's Note:**

> SO it be [shuann week](https://shuannweek.tumblr.com/).
> 
> i was gonna try to participate normally, but never in my life have i successfully participated in any ship week, SO INSTEAD: i'm clearing out (or trying to clear out) my fairly sizeable backlog of drafts that languish in partial-completeness hell.
> 
> one day... one day i'll get back to weekly updates. lol.
> 
> this was one of the few that i actually started out writing for the week itself, so i'm submitting it to the collection directly. be sure to check out the other fantastic entries!

Finding Takamaki-san in this Palace had to be one of the most gorgeous and _chilling_ sights Joker had seen yet—and there had been more of those than he could count.

She was sitting on a swing in a birdcage, drifting back and forth to the light tinkling of chains. Rose-red lips and a rose-red dress, rose-red nails and rose-red heels. She _sparkled,_ rubies and diamonds and shimmering gold, crimson petals that fell and fell and fell around her, never touching her and vanishing as they hit the bottom of the cage. There was no life in her eyes, her expression so blank it was doll-like.

It was a perfect physical duplicate and yet a far cry from the Takamaki-san he knew.

He decided to keep moving then. This infiltration route wasn't about to secure itself.

* * *

"Oh, roses."

Akira looked away from the window at Suzui-san's surprisingly neutral statement—and his blood ran cold.

The collection of crimson roses in Takamaki-san's arms was hauntingly familiar.

Thank god that _this_ Takamaki-san was regarding the bouquet with trepidation, pretty mouth caught in a frown.

"Well _you_ don't look too happy," said Suzui-san. She shifted around in her seat and leaned forward. "They're pretty."

"They were, um, in my locker," Takamaki-san explained in _that voice_ of hers. "No note or anything." She brightened, chin almost brushing the half-bloomed petals. "They _are_ pretty though, aren't they."

"Ooh, a secret admirer?" said Suzui-san, teasing. She shot a shrewd glance at Akira—which he _didn't appreciate,_ by the way—and all he had to offer was a blank look and a shrug.

It definitely wasn't him.

She blinked, then frowned at the basket and went on in a much cooler tone, "That's kinda weird."

She didn't know the half of it.

"...Yeah," Takamaki-san agreed, her eyes dimming. She shifted her grip on the bouquet and Akira caught a flash of the wrapping—silver wire arranged like the bars of a birdcage. "All I wanna know is how they got into my locker."

Suzui-san considered this for a moment, then said, only half-joking, "Hey Ann... how about we walk home together today."

Akira exhaled in relief. Shiho and her volleyball muscles could probably overhand-spike any suspicious people they saw on the road.

"We always walk home together," Takamaki-san pointed out.

"Yeah, just, you know. Especially today."

 _"Ngyah,_ " said Takamaki-san. It was _adorable._ "You're creeping me out!"

"Sorry, sorry..." Suzui-san covered up her concern with a smile. "Roses are pretty romantic though, don't you think? What if it's the start of an _epic love story?"_

His own flash of irrational irritation aside, Akira almost wished he could agree. A failure at a romantic gesture would be infinitely preferable to... whatever this was. A threat?

"Besides, don't you love roses?"

"They're nice," said Takamaki-san vaguely. "They're not my favorites, but... traditional, you know?"

"Oh, then what's your favorite?" asked Suzui-san, genuinely surprised. Akira was surprised too; he'd have thought Suzui-san would already know.

Bafflingly, _enchantingly,_ Takamaki-san turned pink. Her gaze darted around the room until it landed on Akira, and then immediately skittered away again.

"Ch-... cherry blossoms, I guess."

... _Hm?_

He blinked once, twice as he processed, and then decided that no matter how hard his heart had just skipped, her rescuing those petals from his hair the first time they met was the _effect_ of that preference, not the cause.

"And now," Suzui-san muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Akira to catch if he strained his ears, "we wait to see if it's roses or cherry blossoms next."

* * *

It was roses.

* * *

After the third bouquet and the second time passing Cognitive Ann Takamaki as he explored the Palace, Akira decided that answers were needed.

However, cornering the culprit proved... difficult.

Palace Ruler Suzume Tachibana was the cream of the crop, the belle of the ball, the darling daughter of old money. The sort of beautiful and dirty rich that was untouchable to the masses—masses that Akira Kurusu was a part of.

It took a lot of doing, but eventually he tracked down a party she was attending and finagled his way into the waitstaff.

They didn't let just anyone carry platters around the floor, but Akira found that the staff was big enough that if he was in the right place and looked like he knew what he was doing, nobody would look twice—which was how, laden with unrecognizable finger food, he found Tachibana-san standing along the wall, scowling at—

Oh _shit._ That was Takamaki-san, wasn't it.

Takamaki-san in a gorgeous rose-red dress that dragged the eye to every creamy bit of exposed skin; Takamaki-san standing by oddly demure, her shy body language just _adorable;_ Takamaki-san—

Now he was grateful that he'd straightened his hair and clipped it back and left his glasses behind. With any hope, she wouldn't recognize him and think _he_ was the stalker here.

Tachibana-san munched through three of the snacks before Akira gathered his wits again.

Making a small show of following her gaze, he murmured, "That's Ann Takamaki, is it not?"

Tachibana-san shot him a scathing glare.

He met it evenly.

"Tch." Her expression was one of disgust now, her fingers curling in her stole. "Your job is done already. Scram, or I'll complain to your company."

"I'm honored to have earned so much of your attention."

Her lip curled. "Creep."

 _Pot, kettle,_ Akira did not say. Instead, he leaned away and lowered the tray, idly noting, "You look ready to murder, miss. Is something troubling you?"

"She stole it."

 _...Stole what?_ he thought better of asking.

"That floozy and her fake tits—If the panel didn't think with one collective _dick,_ that thing would have been _mine—"_

"You're... refreshingly honest."

"Oh, you're not going to tell a soul, don't worry."

Suddenly, Akira was very glad he'd applied under the name 'Ren Amamiya'. He'd have to make sure to scour away his fingerprints and burn the uniform as soon as he got out of here.

"I'd prefer to worry," he said anyway.

Tachibana smiled. It wasn't a particularly nice smile. "I'm sure you would."

It was possible that he should have been slightly more careful when talking to someone who'd gotten on his list for, er, _disappearing_ particularly pretty idols. Most of them were still alive (most of them), but the less said about their circumstances, the better. The best of them had been checked into mental hospitals for gibbering trauma.

Her Palace was chock full of birdcages and glass tanks, some with half-animal occupants and some with only the remains of those occupants. Takamaki-san had been notable for how _human_ she looked—just how much time had Suzume Tachibana spent studying her?

Too much. The answer was _too much._

He _really_ needed to get through this Palace ASAP.

He was about to keep nudging (and hopefully talk her off that maybe-murderous ledge) when a very familiar voice sang, "Oh, Suzume-chan! I totally didn't think you'd be here!"

A flash of... _something_ crossed Tachibana-san's face, and oddly, it reminded Akira that the other notable thing about Takamaki-san's presence in her palace was the placement of the cage.

In the metaphorical seat of honor, a step above the rest, hanging from the ceiling in a place he now knew was directly below the treasure.

...Maybe Tachibana-san wasn't so honest after all.

Either way, he now _really_ needed to not be here, so he took her momentary distraction as a chance to slip away, down a hall, and then into the Metaverse so no one could tail him home.

* * *

Having decided that confronting the Ruler directly in meatspace was more likely to get him conveniently disposed of than it was to get him answers, Akira abandoned that line of inquiry.

Unfortunately, he still needed information.

Now knowing that Takamaki-san knew Tachibana-san, there _had_ to be some way he could ask her about that, right?

Not so.

He could be cool and clinical and pretend that he just couldn't come up with any graceful way to ask without letting on that he'd been at that party, but the truth of the matter was just that Takamaki-san left him feeling tongue-tied at the best of times.

He didn't _usually_ have a problem talking to pretty girls, but Takamaki-san...

Well, Tachibana-san's... _jealousy_ was completely understandable, really.

Takamaki-san was _gorgeous._

As in, 'supermodels _wished_ they could get on her level' gorgeous. 'Beat out the most airbrushed magazine cover celebrities' gorgeous. Just plain 'breathtaking', if you wanted the short version.

The 'fake tits' comment had also been inaccurate, as far as he could tell. Not that he'd been... looking... but Takamaki-san just wasn't that kind of person.

She brought her 3DZ to school and made all sorts of adorable noises as she played video games during free period. She bought convenience store lunches or cafeteria bread or her own bento and never seemed to be ashamed of her appetite. She stretched and moved and _bounced_ and did her best in school and tried to convince Suzui-san to go with her to the beef bowl place in Shibuya (Suzui-san never agreed, and every single time, he was caught between offering to go in her stead and that odd shyness that always jumped up at that moment) and just...

She was _normal._

It took that untouchable gleam off of her, brought her down from that pedestal, made her an equal except in all the ways she was out of his league.

His eyes drifted away from the blackboard where Ms. Usami was writing an important equation and over to the nape of the girl in front of him.

So close and _so far_ and those split-second fantasies about leaning forward and kissing it, nibbling it, following it down her spine got more vivid and harder to dismiss by the day.

Dammit.

She had more roses today, sitting on the ground next to her desk. The stem holder had thicker bars this time around, the crimson petals above it full and voluminous, likely the best money could buy. He wondered if Takamaki-san knew that.

What did she think of Tachibana-san, he also wondered. She loved thinking the best of people—what did she see in the socialite?

At this rate, he'd never find out.

Ugh.

Where else could he go for information?

* * *

The metaphysical birdcage was just as creepy as it ever had been.

It was all the creepier now for the large dent in its side, the squeak of hinges as the door to the cage swung open about twenty centimeters. The fake Ann Takamaki was still sitting there, still swinging back and forth to the tinkle of chains and still bedecked in deep red, still being showered in an endless waterfall of rose petals that never touched the ground.

Joker shoved down his skin-crawling trepidation and approached.

"Ann Takamaki?"

The Ann Takamaki in question giggled; the noise bounced off the walls of the space and not a single muscle on her blank face so much as twitched, save for opening her mouth.

 _"Oh, you must be Tachibana-san! I'm pleased to meet you,"_ said a tape-recorded message.

Joker congratulated himself for not immediately turning around and leaving and _never coming back to this cursed place again._

"Joker, actually." He folded his arms because shoving his hands in his pockets would leave him feeling too open. "Can I ask you some questions?"

The fake Ann Takamaki didn't acknowledge that at all.

"Do you know why Tachibana-san is so upset with you?" Joker forged on anyway.

No reaction.

What had Tachibana-san said at the party? Something about stealing and a panel of something with one collective...

"Congratulations on your victory," he tried, feeling like he was testing keys on a key ring.

The fake Ann Takamaki laughed that bone-chilling, faceless laugh again. _"I'm so surprised I won! I really thought you had it in the bag,"_ went the tape recorder in her mouth. Petals were starting to land in her hair before falling through. _"What do you think of my tiara?"_

Joker didn't see a tiara anywhere, but said, "Very pretty," anyway.

_"Right? Guess I should have known that a beauty contest hosted by Ferndi would go the extra mile."_

So the trick here seemed to be to try to find things that Tachibana-san had said to Takamaki-san at some point, so that there was a response that could be regurgitated from Tachibana-san's memory and rattled off by the breathing wax doll.

Joker wasn't sure if he'd be less terrified or _more_ terrified if she started emoting as she spoke. The smell of roses was leaking into the room, oddly clean.

"So... you're obsessed with Takamaki-san because you're... jealous of her," he guessed to the room at large, and as expected, Cognitive Ann Takamaki didn't have much of an opinion, pre-recorded or otherwise.

The room itself almost seemed to throb, though. If he hadn't struck a nerve, he'd struck something close.

Right then.

He was going to continue that line of questioning—and then he realized that the scent of roses had thickened and the door to the cage was even more bent and had drifted open a few more centimeters.

Ah-huh.

...You know what? He had enough answers for today. He could... come back another day. Another, much later day, after he'd upgraded all his weapons and stockpiled supplies.

Having decided that, he turned on his heel and left the way he'd come at a brisk walk.

* * *

Three days later, Takamaki-san forgot her lunch _and_ her lunch money with Shiho (her normal rescuer) nowhere to be found.

"It's too bad I can't, like, sell this," she muttered to herself, frowning the latest bouquet on her desk. She poked one of the blossoms. "I wonder how much it's worth..."

 _Ten thousand yen, easily,_ Akira didn't say. It was probably a few times that, actually, what with the custom holder and the top-line roses and all.

Instead he gathered his courage, took a deep, bracing breath, and said, "Do you want half of mine?"

Takamaki-san turned in her seat to shoot him a surprised glance, and he gestured down at his barely-touched curry.

"Oh, I-I couldn't—"

He offered her his spare spoon.

After a moment of hesitation, she took it and wiggled around in her seat.

"You're a lifesaver," she sighed as she dug the spoon into the divide between rice and curry. "My stomach would have been growling all through the next period."

It was entirely possible that his curry was just lackluster, but the way she slowed to a stop after three bites in favor of staring through the bento box and into the space that existed far beyond mortal eyes suggested that that wasn't the main issue here.

"Is it the roses?" he said.

She jumped. "I! Ah! H-how did you even guess that..."

"Magic."

It got her to almost giggle, at least. "Guess it's not that hard to get at, huh." She sighed again, smile dissipating like smoke. "I guess... I've had to deal with stalkers before. It never gets less scary."

"You've dealt with them before?" Not that he was _surprised_ exactly, but he hadn't known that about her before.

"Yeah..." She poked the curry. "At least this one is only at school. There was some guy who followed me home every day for like a week until I called the cops on him."

 _Damn._ He really hadn't been giving her enough credit for resilience.

"You've got guts."

Somehow, that got the spark to come back into her eyes. She giggled. "You think?"

"Can't say I'd be that calm about someone following me home." Especially not after the past few days, and he was used to slicing up monsters from the depths of people's consciousnesses.

"I guess I _can_ be pretty badass, huh," she said, preening. _A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e._ She brandished the spoon at the almost empty classroom with a vivacious, infectious grin. "That stalker better watch out because Ann Takamaki is no slouch!"

His face was doing the smiling thing without his consent and he couldn't get it to stop. "Don't do anything dangerous, okay?"

Her grin dropped into ruefulness, but her eyes were still sparkling when they met his. "I know. I'll be careful."

That look was doing strange things to his heart—familiar things, but he could never quite get used to the feeling she gave him at times like this.

He broke the stare-off after far too many seconds and picked up his spoon. He didn't think he could eat right now, but it was something to do that wasn't blurting out some uncomfortably honest thoughts about how much he admired her spirit and her eyes and her general existence.

She followed suit, but only got as far as digging her spoon into the rice before she stopped to say, "Hey... Kurusu-kun?"

He tilted his head.

"Thanks." Her smile was sweet and shy and warm and _terrible._ Her voice was all those things and worse. "I don't know how you do it, but talking with you always makes me feel better."

Any more of this and he'd start to flush, dammit. He nodded, mostly steady, and then fixed all of his attention on the corner of the bento box that _didn't_ have her chest too close in his peripheral vision.

He really thought that that was going to be the end of that, but then she took another bite of the curry and made this _noise_ and—

"Oh my god, this is _so good!_ My compliments to the chef—I didn't even know spices could do this!"

 _Compliment received,_ he couldn't even manage on a croak, spoon slipping from his numb fingers. He pushed the box across his desk to her and resisted the urge to bury his burning face in his hands.

"Huh?"

"Not hungry," he rasped, which was true, after a fashion.

"Okay...?" He could sense her gaze on him, even if he couldn't bring himself to meet it. "More for me?"

He nodded.

She hesitated another second, then decided, "Itadakimasu, then!"

At the end, he was left with a quarter of his lunch that was going to be impossible to eat anyway and Takamaki-san's fervent apologies. He was, however, thoroughly repaid in the sounds she made while consuming it.

Worth it.


End file.
